


Lavender Oil

by SunMoonAndSpoon



Category: Free!
Genre: Ableist Language, Blood, Dermatillomania, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Impulse control disorder, Mental Health Issues, Trichotillomania, mentions of dieting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 11:05:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3934447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunMoonAndSpoon/pseuds/SunMoonAndSpoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'“My mom says lavender oil will help grow your hair back,” says Makoto. It's 2 AM. Rei is an asshole for having roused him from sleep, and he ought to be apologizing, but instead he's just furious that Makoto has been asking his mother for advice on this matter. He says nothing, just bites his lip hard and starts picking at the skin on the corner of his mouth. It stings, but he keeps on picking at it until he tastes the nickel tang of blood.'</p><p>Rei has trichotillomania and dermatillomania. He tries to deal with it himself, but no amount of logic or lists or planning is good enough. Shouldering it on his own means it just gets worse, but talking to his friends and his mother seems to exacerbate the problem. Eventually, each of his friends come to their own understanding of what Rei is dealing with, and try to help how they can--especially Rin.</p><p>Full trigger list inside and in the tags!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lavender Oil

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: Wow, I can't actually believe I'm finally posting this. I've been working on this story for over a year. It's not long enough to need a year, but it was incredibly difficult to actually write—I needed a lot of breaks and thinking time.  
> This story centers around Rei having trichotillomania and dermatillomania. Both of these are impulse control disorders—the first one involves pulling out hair, and the second one involves scratching, breaking, or otherwise destroying the skin. 
> 
> While the story is primarily about Rei and how these disorders would affect his life, some of his specific experiences with them are based on my own experiences as a teenager. I had both trich and dermatillomania and it was a party. In my entire fandom experience, I've only seen two works that deal with either condition. Hardly ever seeing any sort of representation of yourself sucks, and I've always thought Rei was an appropriate candidate for trich. 
> 
> I'd love to hear any thoughts you have on this work, and I appreciate you taking the time to read it!
> 
>  
> 
> Warnings: The story does include some ableism. Though Rei mostly meets with well-intentioned reactions, not all of them are completely sensitive or knowledgeable, and he does sometimes think of his own condition using terms like “crazy” and “insane.” 
> 
> This story also contains some discussion of dieting. It isn't the main theme, but it's portrayed as control, as opposed to trich/derma which is portrayed as a lack of control. 
> 
> There's some discussion of depression and self-harm. Self-harm is different from dermatillomania and trichotillomania, though many people confuse the two. Sometimes, the etiology/motivations of the two can intersect, but at other times, they are distinct.
> 
> Also, some of the descriptions of scratching from dermatillomania get graphic. If blood freaks you out, skip the shower scene.

At first, he thinks he's imagining it. After all, he wouldn't pull out  _that_ much hair. He decided last week that he wasn't going to do it anymore, and while that hasn't stopped his hands from migrating toward his scalp ten times an hour, he is  _trying_ . Trying means there shouldn't be a nickel-sized bald spot on the back of his head. Trying means that his hair shouldn't be visibly unvoluminous, scraggly, split-ended, and thin. It's been like this for weeks now, but the bald spot, if it's not his imagination, is a new development.

 

Who is he kidding. Of course it's not his imagination. Rei can rationalize the shoddy quality of his hair by claiming it's chlorine damage, but he can't explain a shiny irritated crater on his scalp through any means except that he's pulling his hair out. And he isn't stopping, either. The bald spot's like a magnet, dragging his hands to his scalp, making him scratch the skin and pluck the hair around it. Widening the bald spot, rounding it out because it feels uneven. His fingers stain with a speckle of blood.

 

He heads to the bathroom, checks it out in the mirror. Yes, it's as bad as he thought. He can rearrange his hair to hide it, but it falls back into place within seconds. His hair isn't long enough to rearrange adroitly, but he tries anyway, hair streaming out between his fingers. This is weeks of damage here, he must have been walking around with this bald spot for days. He groans, keeps brushing his hair until he finally summons the will to slam the comb down. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his sweater and resolves to stop this,  _today._

 

~`~`~

 

Within twenty minutes Rei has written up a plan of action. He's done the research, and he knows he has trichotillomania with co-morbid dermatillomania, and while the research says he ought to get professional help, he's confident he can handle it himself. While writing, he bites his fingers to stop them from climbing toward his hair. He knows that this is a terrible coping strategy, but he can't think of anything else, not now, not with his mind locked on the hair thing. It's okay, because he's going to fix everything.

 

Step one is a sign in his bedroom. He goes to an office supply shop for posterboard and permanent markets, writes HANDS OFF YOUR HAIR in puffy, colorful letters swarmed with butterflies and flowers. It's childish, but it's his bedroom, and he can take it down when he hears the door. It's fine, it will help him, it...it looks stupid. He takes it down and scribbles out the butterflies. Draws them again because fuck how it looks. Puts it back up, there, that's Step One.

 

Step Two is keeping his hair clean. If it's tangled, greasy, or otherwise imperfect, the temptation to tear it out will come creeping up again. Step Two is something that he does already, so now he's stuck. It isn't helping. Step One most likely won't help either. Now hopelessness drags his body down, shudders a sigh through his chest. Fingers in his hair again. He takes them out, doesn't pull. Shit, he's feeling that bald spot again. If no one's noticed yet, they'll notice tomorrow for sure. They'll laugh at him, pity him, boot him from the team in favor of Rin...no, that makes no sense. Rin still goes to Samezuka. Rei's place on the team has nothing to do with Rin, even if he is crazy. Crazy. Is he crazy?

 

There is no Step Three. Rei turns off the light and goes to bed with his fingers keylocked together.  _Don't touch don't touch don't make this problem worse don't TOUCH._

 

 

~`~`~

 

He wears a hat to school. Hats aren't generally allowed, but a note from his mother gets his teachers off his case. He wants to cover his hair completely, so he opts for the Tottori University beanie that his brother gave him during his last visit. Rei has never worn it before, it is entirely not his style, but his hair pokes out of the only other hat he has. He will buy a better hat later, one that's beautiful. This is not beautiful but it hides his bald spot.

 

During math class Nagisa sidles up to him, shoulder pressed against his arm. "Interesting look, Rei-chan," he says, leaning over the desk. "Since when do you go to Tottori University?"

 

"My brother goes there," he says, back straight, lips curled inward.

 

"You know you're not allowed to wear hats, right? It's not like you to break the rules. You know I have this hat with bunny ears, do you think I should start wearing that to school? Maybe  _you_ should wear that to school, it'd look super cute." Nagisa reaches up and peels the beanie away from Rei's eyes. "This is pulled down way too far," he says. "I can't see your face." 

  
  
Usually, Rei likes showing off his face. He works hard to keep it unlined and blemish free, so he's proud of it. He doesn't love the alignment of his nose or the thinness of his lips, but he can live with it. He likes his face, Nagisa knows he likes his face, Nagisa must be wondering what the hell is going on with this hat pulled down mere centimeters from his eyes. He could roll it up, he's been showing off split ends for weeks. 

 

 

Before he can decide, Nagisa rolls it up for him. "Your forehead's all sweaty!" he says. "See, it's much too hot to wearing this. Not that I said that before, but it's what I meant to...anyway, Rei-chan, it just isn't like you. You don't usually break the rules. Is something wrong?"

 

Nagisa probably knows what it is already. He probably saw the bald spot days ago and just hasn't said anything. Rei has no idea how long it's been there. Maybe everyone has already seen it, but were too polite to say a word. Red creeps into his cheeks. He says, "nothing's wrong! I just felt like wearing a hat today. What's so weird about that?"

 

"Nothing, except it's against the rules..." Nagisa leans his cheek on the ball of his palm, and circles his eyes toward the teacher. "I heard you talking to her earlier though. She gave you permission to wear the hat, right? So you must have a good reason for wearing it. What's going on, Rei-chan?"

 

There's a spike of fear in Nagisa's voice, but Rei doesn't know why. "Nothing," he says. "Why, what do you think is going on?"

 

“I...I don't know, Rei-chan, aren't there diseases where your hair falls out? Your hair's been really...thin, lately. I just noticed because Gou-chan was talking about which of us guys she thinks is the hottest, and she said you used to be before your hair—uh, that doesn't really make you feel better about me noticing it, does it? Doesn't make it less creepy.” He snickers, then turns serious again. "Do you have cancer, Rei-chan?”

 

“Cancer! N-no, of course not! If I had cancer you'd definitely know about it, and there'd be a lot more problems than just my hair! Besides, your hair doesn't fall out because you have cancer, that's a side effect of chemotherapy!" His voice rises more than he means it too, and within seconds the teacher is striding over to them asking for silence. “I'm sorry,” he says. The teacher nods, then leaves. Lower, now, he says, “my hair is fine. Stop having weird conversations with Kou-san.”

 

“It's not _fine_ , you're not acting like anything is _fine_.” Nagisa rolls his eyes, and starts scrawling messy notes on the lesson. Rei joins him, gnawing on his knuckle until the skin begins to slide off in his mouth. Nagisa peers at him with a raised eyebrow, then turns back to his work.

 

 

~`~`~

 

Obviously, Rei can't wear the hat to swim practice. This thought cycles through his mind all day, endlessly, loopingly, and nothing that he tries seems to banish it. It doesn't matter what solutions he comes up with. He decides that he will change for practice in private, and that he will wear a swim cap. This is a reasonable solution, but it doesn't matter. The thought still won't go. It's better than other thoughts that have lodged themselves in his head—they can get grisly—but the endlessness unnerves him. Even when he does change for practice, he's still thinking that he can't wear the hat. The thought it useless now, he's wearing a swim cap and the problem is solved. Still, this thought, loafing on his brain like an unwanted guest on a couch.

 

But the thought finally leaves when he meets with his friends. Sitting at the edge of the pool with Haruka and Makoto is an unexpected Rin. He smiles, flashing his sharp teeth. "Sup, speedo glasses?" he asks, kicking at the water, sun glinting in his eyes. "Nagisa thinks you have cancer. Is that true?"

 

"No!" Rei shoots a look at Nagisa, who is sitting on a lawn chair applying sunblock to his legs. "Nagisa, why are you telling everybody something so ridiculous when I already told you it isn't true? You're trivializing a serious illness." His hands travel underneath the swim cap, pluck a few strands before he realizes what he's done. He yanks his hand away, straightens his back, gulps hard. "You're imagining things. If my hair is as bad as you say it is, all that means is that I need to switch to a different shampoo."

 

"You just pulled your hair out," says Haruka. “ That would explain why you're losing your hair—if you are. Nagisa has a tendency to exaggerate.”

 

 

“I'm not exaggerating!” squeaks Nagisa. “I just pay close attention to what Rei-chan does, that's all! His hair used to be a lot thicker, and today he was wearing a beanie all day even though we're definitely not allowed to wear hats in school.”

 

At this, Makoto crosses his arms and purses his lips. “What?” snaps Rei. “It's not a big deal! What are you all getting on my case for? Who cares if my hair is a little thinner than it was? If you're noticing, you're the one with the problem, not me!” Suddenly, Nagisa is behind him, Nagisa is ripping the swim cap from his head and Rei isn't quick enough to stop him. He slaps a hand over the glowing bald spot, but it's too late. Nagisa has seen it.

 

“What happened to you?” he asks, then pulls Rei's arm so that his hand lifts off from his head. Makoto stands up, walks over to them shaking his head. He takes Rei's hand and puts it back on his head. Rei takes it off as soon as no one's touching him. Nagisa whines his name again, prompting Makoto to shush him and lead him away. Rei sighs, then replaces his glasses with goggles and plunges into the pool. They are supposed to be doing timed sprints today, and he will do them, but for now he tries to mimic Haruka, tries to let the water soothe his nerves and give him shelter, but all it does is sting his skin. Every place he's torn it open with his nails, every inch he's ripped to shreds with his teeth—it hurts, and when he surfaces he's gasping with it. No one notices. Nagisa is yelling at Makoto, but he whirls around and smiles at Rei once he sees him.

 

“I'm _fine!”_ barks Rei, grabbing a towel and slinging it over his shoulder. “Just fine. Stop worrying and lets get started, okay? We're doing time trials, right? Nagisa, why don't we start with you? Get in the pool and I'll time you.”

 

“Hey how about you let the actual team leaders decide that, huh?” says Rin. His sister, who is sitting on the lawn chair formerly occupied by Nagisa, tells him to mind his own business.

 

“I have homework to do, so if Rei wants to take over, it's fine with me,” she says, uncapping a highlighter and applying it to a textbook that she will have to return to her teacher at the end of the year. Rin points out that Makoto is the team captain, and that Haru is the vice captain, so unless the two of them are suddenly struck by by lightning, there's no reason for Rei to take over practice. “Oh my god 'nii-chan, get off his dick. He just made a suggestion.” Rei's hand is migrating under his swim cap again. Rin is supposed to like him, this is meant to be a group of tension-free friends, but apparently Rei can't stop screwing up.

 

Arms folded and eyes shut he says, “I was merely attempting to get us started. Obviously, it is up to the captain and the team leader how we should proceed.”

 

Before Makoto or Gou can say anything, Nagisa is in the pool and charging through the water at top speed. At the other end of the pool he waves and says, “Reiiiii-chaaaaan, how'd I do?”

 

“Fine. I wasn't counting, sorry.” As he speaks he's pulling his hair again. He's tense, doesn't want to be here dealing with the politics of friendship, but he knows he'd been dragging his hair out of his scalp no matter how he felt. He is powerless to stop them, it's magnetism, it's gravity, it's obsessive-compulsive addiction. Distraction is adjusting his goggles, gnawing on an irritated knuckle. Haru is looking at him, Haruka is walking over toward him, Haruka is speaking to him. Rei doesn't hear him over Nagisa's whining.  
  


When Rei asks for a repeat, Haruka stares at him blankly, then says, “you're pulling your hair again.” Utterly monotone. Rei nearly snaps at him to stop paying such nitpicky attention to him, but he refrains. Instead, he shouts that he's just trying to make it look beautiful. “Bald spots aren't beautiful,” says Haruka.

 

“How do you know I have a bald spot?” spits Rei. Sweat trickles down the back of his neck, and he swallows, hard. Stares at the fence beyond Haruka, at gum recently ground into the concrete floor, at a flock of birds scanning the sky. Anywhere except at Haruka. “I don't!” he insists. “Who told you I did?”

 

“Nobody did. I saw it yesterday. I would have thought you'd have noticed it since you're so...” He doesn't say _vain_ , but the word hangs in the air anyway. 

 

“Rei is just very concerned about his appearance,” says Makoto, clamping a hand on Haru's shoulder. Whispering, thinking Rei can't hear him, he says, “hey Haru-chan, maybe Rei doesn't want to talk about this in front of everybody, huh?” He turns to Rei with a sunrise smile. “If you want to talk about it later, we can definitely do that. But for now...” His eyes travel back to the pool. “For now we should swim. Unless you _do_ want to talk about it now.”

 

“No, thank you.” He hadn't been planning to talk about it at all. How, after all, can he explain something so stupid? How can he explain that he doesn't have the willpower to control his own hands? That he's deliberately ruining his own appearance when he won't shut up about beauty? That when he pulls out his hair he feels sated, and when he doesn't he can think of nothing else and feels insane? Trichotillomania, dermatillomania, those names mean he has an illness, but Rei has always felt responsible for every cold and for every scraped knee. If he can't control his hair, his hands, his _fucking mind_ , he's just pitiful. His friends noticing pricks his eyes with tears, which he wipes away. He doesn't deserve to cry about this, not when he was stupid enough to let it get this far. 

 

~`~`~

 

Later, he is staring at his own scarred head in the mirror, pulling out strands to round the bald spot into an impossible perfect circle. He promises himself that in five minutes he will stop. He will finish his homework, he will answer Nagisa's texts, he will take a shower and do nothing to his hair except wash it. Just five minutes and he can blank the urge from his brain.

 

After five minutes he promises himself five more, and after that he digs his nails into his scalp in frustration. The pads of his index fingers come up bloodstained, so he stomps off to the bathroom to wash it off.

 

What he ought to do is wash his hair. If it's clean he'll have less reason to pull, that's in his list of solutions so it must work. He knows it won't, but he strips down and steps into the shower anyway.

 

The steam and the warmth make his muscles go slack. He stands there absorbing the water, thinking that this how Haruka-senpai must feel in the shower. Peaceful, rocked nearly to sleep by the stream. The blissful feeling lasts until he reaches for the shampoo. Once applied, he's tearing his hair by the roots, strands falling dark against the shower tiles like an accusation.

 

He does the same thing when he uses conditioner, and again when he checks to see that he's rinsed his hair clean. Finally, no longer obliged to touch his scalp, he runs soap across his perfect body. Perfect because he ran and swam and dieted and pole vaulted it to perfection. It takes amazing self control to turn down the cakes his mother bakes whenever she finds a new recipe, to stick to one slice of pizza when Nagisa is eating four. He hates waking up before dawn to run laps, but he drags himself to the park every morning, in near-blizzards and in blazing heat. This is his reward, this body, with its trim waist and rippling muscles, its endlessly aching joints and its stupid betraying hands that are hellbent on destroying the rest of him.  This is his effort,  _his self goddamn control._

 

Except he's still fucking doing it, still loosing his hair from his head. When he stops it's not because he willed it, it's because he noticed an imperfection on his chest. It's a small blemish, a pill of skin piled oddly. He knows that scratching will only make it more uneven, but that knowledge stops nothing. He's still telling himself that he's in control as he rakes his nails down his damp chest, grey mushy clumps collecting in the half-moon of his fingernails. He isn't sure if it's dirt or dead skin, but there seems to be no end to it. Soon his chest looks raw and cat-clawed, and he's telling himself to  _stop stop please just fucking stop_ . This is hideous, this is his  _chest_ , he'll be shirtless in front of his friends next swimming practice, but now he's plucking errant chest hairs,  _damn it damn it damn it WHY?_ And now his hands are trailing up his neck, a tornado ripping goosebumps like they're land.

 

His neck is bleeding and his throat is bleeding and suddenly his whole body is sagging against the tile wall. The shower streams is growing frigid, his skin is jumping with cold, but his hands lie still. He doesn't know why he stopped, how he stopped, just that he's not doing it anymore. Doesn't need to. His wounds sting and his pores ache. When he gets out of the shower he gingerly pats himself dry, rubs unscented moisturizer all over his body, as if it will help. Dresses his scratches in neosporin and band-aids. Brushes his hair and ignores the bald spots. After wrapping himself in a butterfly-print bathroom and putting on his glasses, he pads out of the bathroom, arms pinned around his torso, eyes to the ground. 

 

~`~`~

 

Later, when he's dressed and hanging out in the kitchen with his homework and his mom, he notices that his mom has been staring at him for the past couple of minutes. “What?” he says, copying another definition out of his English textbook. “Did I forget to water the plants? I'm pretty sure I did it this morning.” He doesn't know why he chose that particular question. He knows he watered the plants, that he never forgets to water the plants, that his mother knows he never forgets to water the plants—but he has a feeling she's looking at his hair, or at his neck. He wore the highest collar he could find, but he scratched the skin up to his throat, and it's puffy and red and ridiculous.

 

“I don't know, but probably not. What's going on with your neck?” she says, squinting at him, moving closer. She grabs a chair, sits down and scoots it close to him, then purses her lips and crosses her arms. “Is that a rash? You haven't eaten anything with pine nuts in it recently, have you?” Of course not. He's allergic to pine nuts, and while the reaction is rarely serious, it's disgusting and uncomfortable. He isn't _that_ self-destructive.

 

“It's fine,” he says, grabbing a scarf from the coat rack and wrapping it around his neck. His mother sighs, grabs the end of the scarf and yanks it off.

 

“Really honey? You think that putting a scarf on _while I'm watching you_ is going to put me off the scent? Let me see your neck.” His hands are covering it now, he's twisting away from her, but she pulls his shirt down by the collar and there it is, all the stupid red bumps where he pulled out chest hair, all the puffy red scratch marks with band-aids where there had been beads of blood. “How did this happen?” she asks, peering up at him. “This looks a little too...well, I guess it could have been...you know what, I'm not going to feed you an excuse that you can agree with. Just tell me what happened, please.”

 

Rei heaves a massive sigh. Thinks about telling his mom to fuck off, or confessing everything and asking her to take him to therapy. Does this need therapy? Is there anything a therapist could do? Just because he found the words _dermatillomania_ and _trichotillomania_ on the Internet doesn't mean they describe him. Is this actually a problem or is he just making it up? The fact that he's actually drawn blood ought to answer this question, but it doesn't. This is all a mess. “I did it,” he says, eyes dropping toward his mother's pink house slippers. “I um...I was just trying to get some some dead skin off. I went overboard.”

 

“Is this related to the hair pulling?” she asks. Rei hasn't told his mother about this yet, but he isn't surprised that she knows. His mother, a moderately successful author of children's fantasy novels, works from home. Though frequently absorbed in the details of her work, she always has the time to gather intel on her children. She has noticed the bald spots, she has seen him pulling his hair and has taken note of it. And now, she's seen the claw marks.

 

“I don't know,” he says, sitting down at the kitchen table. His mother sits down across from him, bends over with her hands folded. _Her_ hair could do with some attention—it's slung up in a messy bun, obviously without the benefit of being brushed first. The ends haven't been trimmed in months, and it's oily from lack of washing. If his hair were _that_ bad, his bald spot would stretch his entire scalp. How she keeps her hands off of it is a mystery. Okay, maybe he's just making excuses. “Yes, I think so. They're both compulsive, like I need to do them or I get antsy and can't stop thinking about it, and then I end up doing it anyway even though I'm actively intending not to.”

 

He swallows, picks at his cuticle. His mother grabs his hand and pulls it away, keeps her hand over his as he talks. She has always done this during serious conversations, but it's only recently that her hand hasn't been able to close over his like a blanket.

 

“I don't understand why you would do something like that,” she says. “I mean, you've always cared so much about your appearance. Why would you intentionally try to make yourself ugly?”

 

“I'm not trying to make myself ugly!” This comes out harsher than he means it to, but his jaw is clenched and his throat is tight and he can barely choke out words without growling. He snatches his hand out from under hers, then puts it down on the table, glaring at the torn cuticle. “Like I said, I'm trying really hard not to, but it's like I'm not in control of my own body. Of course I'm not trying to to make myself ugly, that's stupid. What's the point in sabotaging myself like that?”

 

“I don't know honey, but you _are_ sabotaging yourself. Whatever your intentions are, you're damaging your body and you're making it ugly. Is this some kind of self-injury thing? Does this provide some kind of relief to you, or are you punishing yourself?” Her glasses are starting to fog with tears, she's biting her lip and turning her head toward the wall. “This behavior is crazy, you know that, right? The only person going bald in this house should be your father. You need to stop this.”

 

“I know, but that's the thing, I _can't_. Don't you think I'd have done it already if I could?” As the words come out of his mouth he's already deciding he doesn't want to have said them. Or any of the other words that he's said already. There is no way to explain this, he _should_ be able to stop. He's the one doing it, right? He isn't possessed, he's got all his faculties in firm possession. “Mom...” he whimpers. No clue what he wants her to say.

 

“Tell me what I can do to help you,” Mom says, lifting her glasses and wiping the tears off. How the hell is he supposed to have an answer to that question? He cups his forehead in his hands. “Baby come on, you have to help me help you. I don't get this. You've always been so normal, you know, your brother's always been the one with the problems. I've never had to worry about you, but now you're making me feel like I failed as a mother.”

 

“So what, I'm a failure?” Rei tears a cuticle, beads blood on his fingers. His mother passes him a paper towel and tells him to stop.  
  


“No, _you're_ not the failure, I am. If I were a good mother you wouldn't want to do this to yourself. Oh my god look at your _hand.”_ She picks it up, examines his cuticles with a sigh. “This is going to get infected. You're going to make yourself sick.” 

  
“Okay, that's fine Mom, I know that, that doesn't help me figure out a way to not do it anymore!” Rei stands up, opens the fridge and paws through the apples in the vegetable drawer—he isn't hungry but he needs to not look at his mother. For the next fifteen minutes they loop from her telling him that he needs to stop pulling his hair and wrecking his skin, to him saying that he doesn't know how, then back again to her telling him he just has to do it.

 

Finally she says he shouldn't be touching the apples with bloody hands, and she's right, she's absolutely fucking right, so he takes the apples to the sink to rinse them off. The cuts in his nailbed sting when the water hits them, and suddenly tears are turretting down his cheeks and he's hanging over the kitchen sink sobbing like an idiot.

 

His mother wraps her arms around his broad back, her face mushed into his spine.

 

~`~`~

 

“My mom says lavender oil will help grow your hair back,” says Makoto. It's 2 AM. Rei is an asshole for having roused him from sleep, and he ought to be apologizing, but instead he's just furious that Makoto has been asking his mother for advice on this matter. He says nothing, just bites his lip hard and starts picking at the skin on the corner of his mouth. It stings, but he keeps on picking at it until he tastes the nickel tang of blood. When he doesn't reply, Makoto says, “Rei, you called me _really_ late. We both have school in the morning. I'm not pointing this out because I'm mad at you, I'm not...but this must really be bothering you, huh? It's not like you to...” He trails off, but Rei fills in the rest. _Be an irrational, inconsiderate jackass who can't handle his own issues._ Makoto sighs, and tells Rei that maybe he should think about getting some help.

 

“That's why I'm calling you!” he shouts. Then, lowering his voice, he says, “of course you mean professional help. I'm sorry Makoto, I'm being stupid. I'm tired too, and this is really stressful. It's becoming obvious to everyone, not just to me. I'm humiliated! I wish you hadn't told your parents. My own mother's reaction was terrible, and she knows me, your parents have only met me once.” He buries his face in his hands, a sigh shuddering through his body. “I'm sorry. I'm not mad. Thank you for trying to get advice for me.”

 

“I'm sorry that I told them without your permission, you're right, that wasn't okay. What about your mother?” Rei shrugs, shakes his head, all body language that Makoto can't see through the phone. He clears his throat and says he doesn't want to talk about it. “Okay. That's fine. If you ever change your mind, I'm happy to talk it out...just maybe not at 2 AM next time.” Another apology spills from Rei's bloody lips. “It's okay,” says Makoto. “Just...think about therapy, okay? I'm happy to help, but I think maybe you need somebody who is trained to help.”

 

This is logical. Rational. Reasonable. Of course Makoto-senpai, still in high school, untrained in any discipline besides swimming, would have no idea how to handle this. Rei, who knows the inside of his own head better than he knows anything else, can't fix this, so why should Makoto be able to? Why should he have to stretch the limits of compassion so far at 2 AM? A therapist is a profesional, paid to solve the problem, which means they have to do it and they have to do it without judgement.

 

Rei sighs, digs a fist into his cheek, and thanks Makoto for his help. “I'll get some lavender oil,” he says. “I'll look into the therapy thing, too.”

 

~`~`~

 

In the morning, when it's light out and it's acceptable to talk to people, when Rei's head is pounding and his skin stings and his eyes hurt and everything, _everything_ sucks, Rei walks out of his house and is accosted by Rin. Last he saw Rin, he was yelling at him for how he interacted with the swim team, with _his_ friends. He's in no mood to talk to him, so he just nods curtly and brushes past him toward the train station. “Oi, Speedo Glasses!” shouts Rin, jogging after him and then grabbing his arm. “Wait up, I want to talk to you.”

 

“I don't have time to speak with you right now, Rin-san, I have to go to school. I believe that you have similar obligations, so...” He stares at Rin's hand, and shrugs it off.

 

“Nah, there's a staff development day. You think I'd have taken the train all the way over here at ass o'clock in the morning if I had school?”

 

“How did you even get my address?”

 

“Nagisa.” Rei sighs, shoves his glasses up his nose and sighs again. Of course it was Nagisa. Nagisa would have come here himself if he didn't know Rei would frogmarch him straight to school. “Look, you probably have perfect attendence. Being a little late to first period isn't going to kill you.”

 

“Actually, if I did have perfect attendence, I'd be even less likely to break my record over something this ridiculous. I don't have it though...I had the flu just before winter break and had to miss a week of school.” Great, now he's remembering something else that makes him angry. He'd argued with his mother over that, demanding to be allowed to go to school and keep his perfect attendence, but sick as he was he hadn't been able to win the fight. Now, if he misses any more school he'll be labelled a deliquent. Can he spare any more days? He missed five, what was the cut-off? He doesn't remember, needs to look it up, but Rin is glaring at him. Grabbing his arm again. The pressure hurts.

 

“Come on,” says Rin, voice unexpectedly soft. “I just want to help you.”

 

~`~`~

 

And so he finds himself trailing after Rin into the nearby woods, using a fallen tree as a makeshift bench, and picking his cuticles while he waits for Rin to speak. He's silent for several minutes, then he clears his throat. “So, bald spots, huh?” Rin says. Rei's hands fly up to cover his head, then just as fast he stuffs his hands in his pockets. If he touches his head he'll pull more hair, and he can't let Rin-san see that, not again.

 

“Er...yes. Bald spots.” Rei stares at a worm tunneling underneath a tree root. “I'm sorry for that embarrassing display during swim practice. I didn't intend for my...issues...to come up in front of everyone, especially not you...”

 

“Don't worry about it. Haru's the one who started bugging you about it, and I probably wasn't helping. I don't remember what I said, but I was pretty aggressive, right? Sorry about that.” Rin crosses his arms, leans back on the log. Rei shakes his head, says it doesn't matter. “Okay, good. It wasn't a good day for me either, so I was being a jerk. Glad there's no hard feelings.”

 

More silence now, just breathing in the dank forest air and listening to birds warbling at each other. Rei digs an errant strand of skin out of his nail bed, blinks at Rin. “Why do you want to talk about my bald spot?” he asks. “We don't...I mean, Rin-san, I'd love to build a closer friendship with you, but I hardly think we're at the point where you should be going out of your way to discuss such personal things.”

 

Rin laughs. “Oh yeah, then what was all that about me victimizing you by refusing to work out my shit with Haru? I thought we were on a 'discussing personal things' basis here.”

 

“That was different! You were making my friends _miserable_. I couldn't simply allow you to continue being enemies, I had to take action!” Rei beats the log with a curled fist, earning another cackle from Rin. “Don't laugh, I'm serious!”

 

“I know, that's what's so funny. Look, it's the same thing, okay? Even if you can't accept that _I_ care about you, which by the way, I _do,_ you should at least realize that you're worrying the hell out of your friends. Who are also my friends.” Rei tries to argue, but Rin shakes his head, keeps talking. “Makoto called me this morning in _tears_ because you called him at 2 AM fucking hysterical. Nagisa's been worried sick, and Haru too. So...action. Talk to me, what the hell's been happening with you?”  
  
“N-nothing, I just...I'm an idiot, this is ridiculous, I should...” Rin claps a hand to his shoulder, like he means to stop him from moving. Rei hasn't moved. He takes off his glasses, digs his palms into his eyes so hard it births fireworks. “I've been pulling out my hair, as you can see. Also I've been um...ripping up my skin. That's been easier to hide because I can just chalk it up to allergies or my cat scratching me, but...anyway that's what's happening. You probably think I'm crazy.”

 

“Crazy isn't a word I'd use on someone else,” says Rin. “But that does sound pretty rough...want to tell me why you've been doing all that?”

 

“I have no idea, Rin-san. If I knew, I'd probably have been able to stop by now...”

 

“Not necessarily. I...actually I do something similar. Maybe not for the same reason, but I...bite myself. I do it to calm myself down when I'm angry or when I get so depressed that I'm numb. I've used a razor for it too, but my teeth are sharp enough that I usually don't need one.” Rin runs his thumb over the ridge of a scar on his wrist. “I don't know how much that's like what you do. Maybe it's not really the same, but anyway, I get the whole fucking up your body thing.”

 

“I don't think it's like that...” mumbles Rei. Wondering if maybe it is. He picks up a leaf, strips the flesh from the skeleton to keep his hands away from his own flesh. “I don't want to hurt myself, I don't _think_...it's hard to know why I'm doing it.” He sighs. It occurs to him that Rin has just confessed something fairly serious. Here he is babbling on about himself when Rin is the one who is _actually suffering. “_ I'm sorry,” he says. “I'm being terribly rude. Please forgive me.”

 

“Rude how?” Rei explains that he's focusing far too much on himself, that he always does this, he's always arrogant and self-centered and full of himself. His throat tightens, his eyes bristle with heat. He presses on his eyes to keep the tears inside his skull where they belong.  
  
“I'm sorry that you've had to struggle with something so difficult,” he chokes.  
  
Rin plunks a hand on Rei's shoulder. “Thanks, but don't worry about that right now. It's rough, but I'm in therapy for it, okay? I'm on medication—it's not great, makes me constipated as fuck, but it's helping. I told Haru about it recently. My sister knows. I'm dealing with it. You....you're not dealing with it.”  
  
“Your problem is objectively worse than mine,” says Rei. “You're actually suffering. I'm just undisciplined.” He squeezes his eyes shut, takes a harsh, ragged breath. Tears up the bark on the log to the point where it's probably hurting the tree. “I could stop if I tried harder.”

  
This isn't true. Rei has no idea how to try harder than he's trying already. That's what makes this so absurd—there's no reason for it, but it's wrecking everything still.  
  
Rin says, “that's what I tell myself all the time. But just because you think you should be able to stop doing something doesn't mean that you can, you know? If something helps at the same time that it hurts, it's going to be much harder to stop.”  
  
“This doesn't help me with anything. It doesn't make me feel any different. It's not tied to any kind of emotional problems...I guess it happens more if I'm stressed out, which I am constantly, but it's not about that. It happens unconsciously. It's like I'm not the one controlling my own hands.”

 

Rin snakes his fingers around Rei's hand, and pulls it toward his face. Rei winces, not sure if it's from the tugging at his torn-up skin, or the fact that Rin is touching him. He wants that, wants Rin's hands skating all over his body but not like this, not out of pity or curiosity. Empathy? Is what they're going through even sort of the same? Rei doesn't know.

 

He stares at his hand, eyelids wide open and twitching. Rin turns his hand over, as if trying to memorize the map of veins and lines etched into his palm. Rei doesn't want him to speak. If he does, he'll probably tell him that he does have that control. That his work has not been enough, that he is lazy, undisciplined, stupid and insane. Rin has worked so much harder than Rei, in life, in swimming, in everything. It's no wonder Rei's only friends love Rin in ways they could never love Rei. His eyes are muddy with self-pity, he's dragging his teeth across the skin of his busted lips, his chest is shuddering.

 

Rin hasn't said anything yet. He's still studying Rei's hand. Taking in the torn cuticles and knuckle scratches and ragged nails. His busted, unbeautiful hand. Finally, Rin looks up and meets Rei's eyes. When this happens Rei's eyes go blurry and wet and that shudder in his chest transforms into sobbing. Rin folds him up into his chest, then pulls back. “Wait, sorry, I should have asked. Is it cool if I hug you?” Rei nods, sinks into Rin like a warm bath after a long run.

 

Rin strokes his hair, fingers pausing over the bald spots. Rei's shoulders seize, his hands curl up tense, and he bites his lip. _Rin will take back his hand in disgust, take back all the kind things he said when he feels the unnatural bare spots, the little bloody pustules where he pulled too hard, long scratches and flaky skin and revolting..._ Rin doesn't take his hand back. Instead he just covers the spot with his palm.  
  
“I hate it when people touch my hair...” mutters Rei. Rin's hand lifts, but goes right back to touching when Rei says, “but right now it's okay. I like this. It's...you don't think I'm...” His throat goes tight with more crying, and Rin says _of course not, of course not, you're not disgusting at all._

 

They stay like that for a long time, tangled around each other like hair knotted around Rei's fingers...no, something nicer, vines wrapped around a branch and bursting into bloom. Maybe just the vines, no flowers yet. Rei sighs, takes off his glasses and wipes the tears off on his school uniform. Rin straightens his flannel shirt, pats the damp spot where Rei had been resting his face.  
  
“You feel better now?” asks Rin.

 

“A bit. Thank you, Rin-san, I appreciate your kindness.” Rei replaces his glasses, digs through his bag for something to blow his nose with. Rin thrusts a water bottle into his hands. “Thanks again,” he says. “I...I don't really know what to say. I've embarrassed myself.”

 

“Nah, man, everybody needs a good cry once in a while.” Rin crosses his arms. “Anyway, back to what you said before...I'm not going to say you're wrong about not being able to control your hands. To be honest that sounds fucking terrifying. It's actually the opposite for me, with my thing...used to be when I cut or bit or whatever, it was one of the only times I felt like I _was_ in control.”

 

Rei winces with sympathy, earning a shrug from Rin. “I wish our experiences had more in common so that I could give you advice. I mean, I don't, because my shit fucking sucked and I wouldn't want you to have to deal with it...you probably feel the same way about yours.”

 

“Of course! Besides, Rin-san, you have beautiful hair, so it would be terrible if you were to ruin it!” Rei's cheeks go molten at the sound of Rin's laughter.

  
“The ultimate compliment. I could say the same thing about you, but I won't. It'll grow back, and any scars you leave will make a good story.” He pushes Rei on the shoulder, faces him with a beet red blush, and says, “you'll still be beautiful even if you're totally bald, okay? I mean, don't pull out all your hair if you can help it, but nothing's going to make you ugly.” He flashes his wrist, which is ragged with old scars. “This doesn't make me ugly, either. Okay? Get it?”

 

Rin sniffles, eyes filling with tears. Rei nods, says that he gets it, that he's moved by Rin's words and thinks he's a wonderful friend and a wonderful person. “Don't be such a freakin' nerd,” chokes Rin. “Fuck. Look, anyway, we've been hanging out in the woods long enough. You probably want to get to school, right?” Rei nods. “Thought so. Anyway just...if you ever need to talk about this, or anything else, hit me up.”  
  
“I will. Thank you for your offer, Rin-san.”

 

“Ask Makoto and Nagisa and Haru for help too, okay? They'll do it, you just gotta stop being so cagey and let them know what you need.”

 

“I don't know what I need,” says Rei. He stands up, brushes log detritus from his pants, and crosses his arms. “If I knew, I'd have been able to solve this thing myself by now.” If he knew, he'd have been able to tell his mother how to mother him, and she wouldn't think he was a crazy failure. Rei gnaws at his bottom lip, wincing at the sour burst of blood.

 

“No, dude, that's not how it works. You just have to be like...Haru, stop making weird comments about it in public, Makoto, hook me up with some of that lavender oil, Nagisa shut the fuck up. Rin, this is really stressing me out right now, can we meet up and talk? I'm saying we're your friends and we love you.”

 

 

~`~`~

 

 

They leave the woods and seperate. Rin presses him again to keep in touch, and Rei nods. A hard, bitter part of him is thinking _they love you more than me_ , but he's so grateful for Rin's time and compassion that he's able to ignore it. Sort of. It keeps repeating itself, an endless loop of the same grievance, infinate and permanent, but he makes himself not care. This has always been true, anyway. Rin has always been their best-loved friend, and Rei has been a poor replacement. Makoto, Haru, and Nagisa don't love him, they _tolerate_ him.

 

He slides into his seat during Classic Literature class, hands shoved deep into his pockets to keep them away from his hair. Right away, Gou and Nagisa's heads whip toward him. Nagisa whispers, “Rei-chan, where were you all morning? I was so worried!”

 

Gou says, “he was with my brother. You're the one who gave him his address, remember?”

 

“Yeah, but I didn't think he'd do it during school! Rei-chan _never_ misses class unless he's dying.” Nagisa sighs, puffs out his cheeks, then sighs again. “Okay, well, you're here now. Next time _don't_ give me a heart attack, okay?”  
  
Knowing he should laugh but unable to muster the energy for it, Rei mumbles an apology. “It's fine,” says Nagisa. “I'm just glad you're okay. Look um...I'm sorry about all that stuff earlier. The cancer thing. I was worried about you and not thinking clearly, plus I wanted to get you to actually explain what was going on. I was being dumb. Sorry.”

 

“It...it's okay, Nagisa. Thank you for your concern.” Rei wants this conversation over, wants to focus on whatever the teacher is saying about _The Tale of Genji,_ but Nagisa is still speaking.  
  
“Gou-chan and I had an idea.” Gou looks up from her notes and nods. “Want me to tell him about it?”  
  
“Yeah, one of us has to pay attention to what the teacher's saying,” Gou says with a snort. “Go ahead.”

 

“We thought maybe if you want to stop pulling your hair out, we could do a reward system? Like if you don't pull for one class period I'll give you a gummy worm. Or, or!! Gou-chan has a photobook with really awesome muscle shots so she could show you one page every time. Or...I could show you a different picture of a penguin?” Nagisa's eyes sparkle, his hands clasp his desk as he leans forward, a little too close to Rei's face.

  
“I don't think those things would be particularly motivating for me—but thank you.” He smiles, picks up a pen and starts writing the notes on the chalk board. “You should pay attention to the lesson, alright? Otherwise you won't be prepared for the next exam.”  
  
“One more thing,” says Nagisa, rummaging through his bag. “Haru-chan bought you some lavender oil and he asked me to give it to you. He said it's supposed to help regrow hair. If it doesn't, it still smells nice, and I don't know, maybe having your hands smell like lavender whenever you touch your scalp will help you realize you're doing it?” He finds the small glass bottle in his jacket pocket, and hands it to Rei. “I don't know if that makes sense but here you go!”

  
“Haru bought it?” he asks. Makoto had been the one who talked to him about lavender.

 

“Yeah, it was Mako-chan's idea, but Haru-chan felt bad about embarrassing you at swim practice, so he bought you a present.” Nagisa rubs the back of his neck. “I want to do the same thing. Can I buy you ice cream after class?”

 

“You don't have to do that...” mumbles Rei, taking the lavender oil and inspecting the label. “I've already forgiven you, don't worry.” A grin zippers across Nagisa's face, and he says he's still going to buy Rei ice cream. “If you insist,” he says. “Buy some for Kou-san, too.”

 

“Aww, Rei-chan, I can't afford _that_ much ice cream...”

 

He turns rolls the lavender around in his hand, frowns at the flowery script on the label. No one is paying any attention to him except for Nagisa, so he unscrews the top and lets a few droplets of lavender drip onto his inflamed, prickling scalp. It doesn't do anything to keep his hands from wandering, but when he gets distracted from the lecture and finds a lock of hair wrapped around his fingers, the sweet slick oil helps him catch himself, draws his hands back to his desk without pulling.

 

It won't last. Soon the lavender oil will become routine and won't remind him of anything, or the newfound greasiness will irritate him and make him pull more. But in the moment it's his friend's love bottled. In this moment, he feels nothing but warm.

 

 


End file.
